


Too Long Apart

by mansikka



Series: Domesticity [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Magnus Bane, Worried Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12605012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Magnus worries about Alec when he gets delayed on a mission.





	1. Chapter 1

Magnus checks his phone for the third time, and tells himself it is too soon to be panicking like he already is. The apartment feels quiet, seems empty without Alec in it, and he’s only been gone a matter of days.

 _Six days_ , Magnus reminds himself, then making a mental note of the time passed in minutes, finding himself staring at his cell yet again and willing Alec to call.

“Please, Alexander,” he says out loud, but Alec isn’t there to hear him. He’s away, on a difficult mission in joint effort with three other Institutes where a demon breach has meant all hands on deck, leaving a skeleton team of Shadowhunters at the Institute, and Magnus and the other warlocks in the city reinforcing their wards, to ensure nothing can get through.

He misses him, Magnus thinks, with an actual ache in his chest, rereading the few snatched messages Alec has managed to send him in between whatever he’s doing, and still seeing the two fire messages emblazoned in the backs of his eyes. This is the longest they’ve been apart for, well, Magnus thinks to himself with a huff, since those _fights_ so long ago. That had seemed like an eternity despite being only a tortuous couple of days at the time, but this? This is agony, like an entire part of him is missing. Sleep has been perhaps no more than two or three hours a night not being able to settle without Alec’s warmth there beside him, and every task tainted with the knowledge that when he returns home, Alec will still be away.

He would know if something had happened to Alec, Magnus tries to comfort himself, adamant that the love they share means he would, he’d be able to _feel_ if something happened to him. It’s a whimsical thought as much as a realistic connection, because the way the two of them slot together speaks of a bond that’s beyond every day shared affection. There is _more_ to them than regular love, Magnus insists, talking himself in circles and not bringing himself any comfort at all.  

Magnus’ mind is cruel. It always is, he thinks, huffing to himself, whispering memories at him that he’s long buried out of nowhere, as though reminding himself he can never be anything but his past. But in place of those taunts, or perhaps just interspersed between them, comes overwhelming thoughts of Alec being injured. Laid wounded on a battlefield somewhere, or cornered without back up, life slipping away from him as the spark fades from his eyes, not being able to reach anyone for help.

“Stop,” Magnus hisses at himself, a swirl of magic blasted across the room leaving glasses rattling against a table, and a print on the wall that Magnus has been thinking of removing because Alec’s been talking about getting a noticeboard in its place, crashes to the ground. Shards of glass everywhere, the frame in pieces. Giving him something to do if nothing else, Magnus sighs, carelessly waving his hands and sending everything tinkling through the air into the trash.

Perhaps he should do as Alec does when he is troubled, Magnus thinks then, imagining scrubbing floors, dusting corners, and generally keeping himself busy with manual work. But it would be ineffective, he sighs, slumping, having laundered everything in the apartment that it’s possible to launder, moved the furniture round no less than seventeen times, reorganized their bookshelves and cleaned out even the deep corners of his desk that he hasn’t seen in years. Nothing is working.

“Please come home,” he begs, stomach churning in knots, unaware he’s pacing until he catches his eyes in a mirror, and sees the terror written on his face, stares for a second, then is spinning on his heel.

He can’t eat. Throat too constricted to get anything down, and his stomach so flighty he doesn’t think he’d get to keep anything even if he could make himself try. The martini he made himself three hours ago he returns to every now and then to take a sip at but tastes of nothing. Surely someone would think to tell him if something had happened to Alec, he thinks to himself in a fresh panic. Surely the Clave wouldn’t be so cruel not to get word to him, just because they don’t approve of _him_.

He’s tried Jace’s cell, Izzy’s, and Clary’s when Alec’s had just rung out, horrified to find them all doing the same. He’s even thought of portaling to the Institute to see if anyone there knows what is happening, but isn’t overly sure of his welcome there without Alec as a buffer.

Besides, Magnus adds, pleased when he’s reminded of something to fill his time, he has wards to maintain. He scrambles his way up to the roof and sends magic scattering out from his palms to reinforce those wards, determination gripping his jaw, adamant that nothing will get through.

Once he’s back inside, Magnus pulls out his phone, tries yet again to make a call to Alec, his heart giving a thud of protest when he realizes it’s off. It must be out of power, he decides, already pacing again, though coming to a stop with the desperate need to _see_ Alec, and begins scrolling through the pictures he has of him on his cell, thumb sweeping up over his face as he begs him to come home.

He changes the screen background from a picture of the two of them together to one of Alec on his own, smiling warmly up at him with a hint of blush to his cheeks, leaving Magnus recalling the very moment he’d taken it; on the terrace of a hotel they’d stayed at in Venice, wrapped up together as the sun began to set. But then he panics; if he’s changed the photo without Alec being there with him, is he sending up some kind of cosmic message somewhere that will jinx things between them, delay Alec even more from coming home? It’s a stupid thought, one he immediately curses himself for, though it doesn’t prevent him from putting the previous image back, and hoping he hasn’t left it too long.

Every corner of this apartment speaks of Alec. It’s in the blanket they picked out together in a market in Jaipur that drapes over one of their armchairs. The toy replica of Loch Ness that sits on their bookshelf in front of a tome on Celtic magic, that they’d picked up when spending a few days in Scotland. The candid shot of Alec taken in the Coliseum on a day out in Rome, jutting out from behind a vase that is filled with crisp, dried out flowers that Alec had bought for him the morning before leaving for this hellish mission, and Magnus can’t bear to throw out. It’s even in the shirt of Alec’s that Magnus has been wearing to bed the last two evenings in an attempt to sleep, because the scent of him has faded from the pillow, and it’s the closest he can get to being with him.

“I need you, Alexander,” Magnus sighs, pushing open the doors to the balcony and stepping out to suck in lungfuls of air, staring out across the skyline of the city finding no distraction from anything, repeatedly willing Alec to come home.  

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the early hours of the morning, when Magnus has snatched perhaps a few restless minutes of sleep, a noise out in the living room startles him awake and sends him leaping from the bed.  

“Alexander,” he calls out, recognizing his form in the near-dark, blasting the room to light with a wave of his fingers to find Alec perched shirtless on the very edge of the couch looking exhausted beyond words, wincing up at the light then looking over at Magnus with a cautious smile.

“I was gonna heal myself, before I came to bed, so I wouldn’t worry you,” Alec says, and his voice is scratchy, and raw. And it’s then that Magnus unfreezes from where he’s been stood, taking in the stele Alec’s holding over the various bruises and cuts up his arms and over his chest.

“Alexander,” he cries, rushing to him the few paces needed to cross the room and sinking to his knees in front of him, burrowing into his waiting arms.

“I’m sorry,” Alec tells him, dropping the stele to the cushion beside him and wrapping his arms tight around Magnus, drawing him close, flinching for what has to be the pain of all those wounds and bruises being pressed against. Magnus pulls back for a second, flares magic that he caresses into Alec’s skin until every last injury fades away, and Alec is sighing in relief, pulling Magnus to him once again.

“What happened?” Magnus demands softly, clambering up into his lap and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, groaning in relief at the feel of Alec’s hands warm and wide on his back.

“We kind of walked into an ambush,” Alec sighs, and begins to tell him of their battle. The losses, near misses, the time it took to get anything done. They’ve won, but it’s been close, and when he’s had a day to recover there will be reports to write to catalogue everything they’ve experienced. A joint cabinet meeting so all the Downworlders involved can be briefed.

“I missed you so much,” Magnus tells him, and Alec squeezes him a little tighter, tilting his head to the side to press against Magnus’, where he’s dropped it to press into his shoulder, his breath ghosting over Magnus’ hair.

“I missed you,” Alec sighs, “I wanted to get messages to you so many times, but things just got… crazy. I barely had time to think. And there were so many injuries, Magnus. So many demons; I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before,”

Magnus feels as though he has a hundred questions, but also just needs to feel Alec; cupping his face in his hands, Magnus bends to kiss him, a relieved sob punching its way out of his mouth.

“I am so sorry to make you worry,” Alec whispers against his lips, before threading his fingers through the back of his hair and pulling him close to kiss again. And it’s like being put back together, Magnus thinks, the mold of their lips, the angle of their jaws, the wrap of their arms around one another. Magnus feels _whole_ for the first time in days, with all the tension draining away from his body, feeling that he may as well be melting into Alec’s lap.

“You should sleep,” Magnus whispers, pressing kisses over his eyes, brushing his lips down over his cheek before claiming another kiss.

“I should,” Alec agrees, but doesn’t make to move. Magnus wonders if there are further injuries he’s yet to see, or if he’s just too tired to go anywhere.

“Need some help?” Magnus offers, and Alec shakes his head with a smile.

“I just… need a minute,”

“You need me to go?” Magnus asks, not knowing what horrors might still be playing behind Alec’s eyes. What he’s seeing from his past few days.

“What?” Alec asks, wide-eyed with surprise. “No—no, Magnus; I meant, I need a minute with you. Like _this_ ,” he says, emphasizing it with a squeeze around him.

“Oh,”

“I couldn’t… think without you,” he adds, pressing kisses wherever he can get to, as he slips his hands beneath Magnus’ shirt and splays them over his back.

“Me neither. It’s been… awful without you,” Magnus tells him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before Alec pulls back, pinching Magnus’ shirt between his thumb and finger and looking up.

“Is this mine?”

“It is,” Magnus admits, feeling himself blushing. Alec strokes a thumb over the material of the collar before smiling, then surges forward to kiss him harder.

“I love you,” Alec sighs when he pulls back to catch his breath, smiling as Magnus repeats it to him, then finally letting out what has to be an overdue yawn.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Magnus whispers, pressing a kiss over the shell of his ear, moving when Alec nods, smiling as he holds on to his waist to steady him as he stands, then accepting his extended hands to pull him to his feet, swaying tiredly into Magnus’ arms.

“I should shower first,” Alec sighs, leaning on Magnus for support as they make their way to the bedroom, and it’s true; there’s blood dried into his pants, dirt smeared over his skin, and his hair seems to be full of dust. Not that Magnus is complaining for one moment about the state of him, of course, far too happy to have Alec home to care about anything else at all.

“Tomorrow,” Magnus tells him as he guides him into their room, snapping his fingers to both clean Alec with magic and change him into the softest clothes he can think of.

Alec shakes his head in protest, fingers at the edge of Magnus’ shirt and fumbling to drag it upwards. “I’m so tired,” he says, “but I need… Magnus, I need to feel you. Just… I need to feel you like this,” and Magnus holds him around the waist to steady him as Alec yanks his own shirt up over his head before tackling Magnus’, wrapping his arms around him and groaning the second their skin is in contact. “Just this,”

Magnus agrees; the feel of Alec’s skin on his brings so much immediate comfort. With another snap of his fingers he’s ridding them both of the rest of their clothes, guiding Alec into bed, and wrapping himself around him, as he presses kisses to Alec’s chest then rests his head there, knowing they will both be asleep in a matter of moments.

* * *

 

 


End file.
